Chapter 3

Our revels row are ended: these our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like an insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind.